thecapitol | Deceptively whole [closed]

She was being torn apart by three sadistic velociraptors, in pieces, watching her arm go one way, her guts another, viscera and gore trailing from her body to their claws and teeth, shock and exsanguination dragging her into the blackness, but too slow, too slow...

She jolted out of death with a gasping cry of terror and agony, but no. No. She's not there. She's in her room. Walls instead of trees. A bed instead of hard ground. Silence instead of the sound of chittering and screeching and flesh ripping and bones crunching and snapping wetly...

She closed her eyes, forced her short panicked breaths to slow, lengthen, even out. With shaking hands she felt each of her arms, then patted over her chest, her belly. No blood. No wounds. No chucks missing, no intestines hanging out, she was in one piece. One piece. One piece.

She opened her eyes, stared up at the ceiling, and lay there shaking. The images replayed in her head, over and over, just like they were doubtless replaying all around the Capitol, citizens taking sadistic joy in seeing her torn to pieces, doubtless cheering when she was eviscerated, the same way bullfighting fans cheer as the matador's sword is thrust into the bull's spine.

Joan had to get out of the suite. Had to do something or else the images assaulting her brain would drive her crazy. When the elevator doors opened up on the expansive ground floor, though, she swore under her breath. It was, as always, full of fans and press and sponsors, watching the Games on huge screens. Her own death could be up there at any time, and if someone recognized her, this could quickly turn into something massively unpleasant, and massively worse than if she had just stayed in her room.

She moved quickly toward the front door, head down, not making eye contact.

Dan was by the door, surveying the crowd as a part of the ever present group of white uniformed Peacekeepers. He saw Joan and frowned a bit under his helmet as she rushed towards the door.

"You aren't really dressed for this kind of weather, are you?" he asked. His voice was as warm as it ever was with her, a little incongruent with the imposing image of the Peacekeeper's uniform.

He reached up and pulled off his helmet, exposing some of the concern in his face. "It's below freezing out there."

She stopped as she recognized his voice, turned to him, looked at the door, her lips pressed in dismay. If she had not rushed out of the suite, she might have realized it was cold outside, colder than the arena had been. Her stylists certainly would have realized, would have put her in some fancy, complicated, yet warm outfit.

She turned back to him, spoke in a low voice.

"I need to get out of here."

Dan can understand that. "Let's at least get you a coat," he said. Assuming she wouldn't want to brave the crowd again he pulled away and started to go down towards the exit used by the Peacekeepers. He was supposed to always be in uniform here, but it was sometimes difficult (given the special nature of his title) to leave without being noticed. He had a change of clothes in his office because of that.

The coat there wouldn't be very feminine, but it would at least be clean and warm.

She glanced side to side again before following him, not wanting to wait there and invite a second look from anyone. It occurred to her that they might be heading toward an area typically off-limits to the Tributes, but that just made her stride more confidently. That was the key for getting into off-limit places, Sherlock (her Sherlock) had taught her. Look like she belonged, and most people wouldn't question.

Dan did have to make her wait just outside some of the most restricted areas, but he wasn't gone long enough for anyone to cause her trouble. And, perhaps more importantly for him, for her not to cause trouble either. When he came back to her, he was holding a large brown coat that was big on him as it was. "I know it's nothing you're used to," he admitted. "But at least it will keep you warm."

Though her Stylist might have a heart attack if they saw her in it. It was almost the opposite of fashionable, more a huge chunk of brown suede that had been fashioned into the shape of a coat than anything.

She raised her eyebrows at the coat. "Wow...I didn't know they made tents out of suede," she said wryly. She took it and examined it for a moment, then paused before looking up at him.

"This is your coat? Does this mean you wouldn't be able to come with me?"

Dan was a little surprised at the implied offer to come with her. It even derailed any embarrassment he would have had over how clunky his coat was.

"My uniform is insulated, if you don't mind going too far from the Tower," he explained after a moment of recovery. "I don't want to cause a stir by being too visible in public. People tend to notice the white."

He was willing to go with her. Good. Having company would go a long way in keeping her thoughts off of the dinosaurs, what they did to her, how they tore into her flesh and ripped her apart...

She swallowed, forced the thought away, her concentration back to Dan.

"Whatever works for you. I would appreciate the company."

"There are some gardens outside. Have you seen them in the winter yet?" Dan suggested as he moved her away from the area of the Tower she probably shouldn't be in towards an exit that was a little way away from the crowds. "It can be really beautiful."

"I haven't," she answered, walking at his side. "It wasn't winter yet when the arena started, and I..."

...just came back to life?

Breath.

"I'd love to see them."

"Of course," Dan answered, wincing just a bit. "I'm sorry." Of course she hadn't... He had been stupid to even ask. He felt a little like kicking himself. "Let's focus on getting there first, okay? Then you can check them out."

She wondered if he watched the Games. If he knew what happened. If he saw what happened.

She pulled on the coat.

"How far is this place?"

"Not far," he says. "But if you need to walk around a bit we can follow the path of the garden." The garden was really close to the building, they only needed to walk down a pathway to get to it.

"That would be nice."

Walking was good. Moving was good. And it was more time away, more time with Dan, less time alone.

"How have you been?"

He'd watched her death. Of course he had, watched through every gorey detail and hadn't turned away, no matter how angry it made him. The fury broiling deep in his gut. As soon as the cannon sounded he went and found an avox, told in quiet whispers that he needed him to go and check when Joan came back and report back to him, the instant that she reappeared.

(For she had to reappear. He wouldn't accept anything less.)

As soon as the avox came back he set off for Joan's rooms, sending the avox to fetch John as well, though he'd have a head start. Within moments he was in the common room to her suite and striding towards her bedroom door, knocking on it sharply.

"Joan?"

The sudden, sharp sound made her flinch slightly, a reaction she was immediately ashamed of. She was fine. She was fine. And it was Sherlock. The first thought to cross her mind was relief that he had been brought back to life. The second was a stern reprimand to herself to pull it together. Sherlock didn't need more to worry about, and he almost certainly needed her. She had to be strong, for him. For John, too.

She sat up, rubbed at her eyes, breathing deep, fighting the shaking, forcing it to stop. As much as she was able, anyway. A little bit remained, but there wasn't much she could do about that.

"Come in."

At least he waited for the invitation before he opened the door, this time. He visibly relaxed as soon as he saw her - being told she was alive was one thing, seeing it for himself was another.

"Still here," He said, though whether he meant himself or her it was unclear. "Alright?"

"Still here," she affirmed, with similar ambiguity. "I'm fine." She was lying, of course, but doing so pretty competently. There were only small tells that she wasn't being honest, a slight pause, a slight tremor. Things she couldn't help, things most people wouldn't notice. But she immediately tries to take the focus off herself, turn it back to Sherlock.

"How are you doing?"

Sherlock was not, and never had been, someone who could be categorized as 'most people'. If anyone in the world knew she was lying, it was him.

That being said, there were some lies he didn't care to call out. Some that walked a treacherous line towards speaking about feelings, and some that would call out his own.

"Fine," He replied, with exactly the same steadfastness. He'd perpetuate the lie if she would. "John's here, too. I sent him a message to tell him of your-- arrival. He'll be on his way." He paused, and then added: "All accounted for."

This time.

Mutual lies, then. Somehow that was comforting. Like they were managing to save face yet share their pain at the same time.

She nodded when he told her John had been brought back as well, relieved. The fact that Sherlock was here and able to appear together was evidence enough, of course, but it was good to get confirmation of that.

"Have a seat," she said, motioning to the spot on bed beside her. "Tell me what's been going on in the Capitol."

Daniel pressed his lips together for a moment, and then, finally. "I was stationed in the Districts, you know. I knew some of the kids who got sent to the Games. It's still different when it's people I interact with every day." His tone of voice was carefully crafted to not show any emotion. It sounded almost as if he was just commenting on the weather, or what he had eaten for lunch. Still, there was something in his face, a tightening of his jaw, that hinted towards what he really felt.

She turned her head, watched his expression. That tightening of his jaw.

"It must be hard," she said softly. "Having to watch people you know die like that. People you care about."

"Nothing terribly dramatic," He said slightly sardonically. "Though someone hacked into the network," He added as casually as he could manage. "Rebellion, plots, the usual words with absolutely no action behind them. Saying that the 'hackers' that they caught earlier were merely a facade." He'd already known, of course, but that was beside the point.

"Idiots, basically," He said flippantly. "I've no doubt they'll be captured soon enough."

Deceptively whole [closed]

Sherlock and John

For Dan

Re: For Dan

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject